Of phone-sex and c(r)aves

Veiled, your words
are shadows copulating
on the wall of Plato’s cave,
mere promises and dreams
a fog who burns at dawn,
yet there is a crave
in veins and muscles,
skin and bones
there is lust and must
to touch a solid you.

Nicked on the internet

A third Quadrille for De at dVerse. Had to do something on the shadows in Plato’s cave. Why not with phone-sex?